Sweet Dreams
by Ellen Smithee
Summary: Damon drives a drunk Carol home from the Grill and one thing leads to another. Damon/Carol, dubious consent  drunk!sex and compulsion . Written for the tvd rarepairs Fic Exchange on LJ.


The bartender throws Damon a grateful look as he approaches and nods towards the end of the bar, where Carol is hunched over a daiquiri, a row of cocktail umbrellas open in front of her on the counter.

"Good evening, Carol." Damon slides into the stool next to her, frowning as he examines the umbrellas, arranged in ascending rainbow colors.

"They don't have indigo," Carol says by way of greeting. She's slurring her words and furrowing her brow as she stares at the tableau in front of her.

Damon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he considers compelling the bartender to find an indigo cocktail umbrella and then decides against it. Perhaps his brother's disappearance has destroyed his sense of fun, but he finds his heart just isn't in it.

"Carol," he says in a tone that brooks no nonsense. He jumps off the stool and puts his hand on her arm. "C'mon, I'm taking you home now."

Carol glances down at his hand and then up at his face. She opens her mouth as if to protest, but he repeats her name, throwing in a little compulsion for good measure. He's not expecting it to work, but then his own eyes widen when he sees the blank look in hers. Since when has Carol been off vervain? This is a very interesting development indeed. He feels an odd twinge of something like guilt, but pushes it away.

He pays for her drinks and then the bartender lets them out through the back in hopes that no one will notice the mayor's advanced state of inebriation. Her gait is unexpectedly steady, and she leans only slightly on Damon's arm as he guides her through the parking lot to his Camaro. Her body is warm against his, smelling of spice and alcohol. He can feel her blood pulsing against his fingertips, overwhelming him, and he wants...he _needs_... but he resists. A live Carol is much more use to him at the moment than a dead one.

He helps her into the car and then drives off towards the Lockwood mansion. They drive in silence at first, just the radio playing softly in the background. Since she seems disinclined to talk for once, Damon's thoughts drift to his brother and his hands tighten on the steering wheel in frustration. He's so sick of hanging around this town babysitting Council members when he should be out there looking for Stefan. His stupid-ass baby brother, always playing the hero without any thought of the mess he leaves behind.

Thinking Carol must have dozed off, he starts to change the station. He needs something to take his mind off Stefan or he'll go crazy.

"Wait," she says, reaching out to stop his hand on the dial as he reaches the oldies station, which is playing Billy Joel's 'Uptown Girl' as part of its 'Crazy Eighties' weekend. She's quiet for a moment and then she adds, "Richard used to sing that to me when we first started dating."

Damon glances over at her. "Is that what this is all about tonight? Richard?"

Carol sighs and looks out the window.

"Today's our anniversary," she says.

"Really? How long were you married?" He wonders why Tyler wasn't there for her today. The little ingrate.

"No." She chuckles softly, her voice rough from the drinking. "The first time we made love. It was in the backseat of the Bimmer his dad bought him for his sixteenth birthday."

Damon bites back a groan of annoyance. The last image he needs in his head is that of a half-naked, teenaged Richard Lockwood getting it on with Carol in the back of his BMW.

"I'm sorry," he says, giving her a sympathetic, if false, smile.

Carol just nods and before Damon can react, she's thrown her arms around his shoulders and she's pressing her damp eyes to his shoulder.

"Thanks, Damon," she sniffs. "You're such a good friend."

"Of course I am," Damon says, raising his hand to pat the back of her head. "You can rely on me, Carol." He feels a little uncomfortable by his deception, but tamps down the odd feeling.

"Can we go to the lookout point over the falls?" she asks, her voice muffled in his shirt. "I can't... I don't want to go home right away."

"Sure thing."

Five minutes later, they drive into the parking lot of the lookout point, surprisingly empty, even for a school night. He parks facing the falls and cranks up the radio-'Hungry Like the Wolf'-and reclines the seat. He stares out at the water tumbling down the mountain, the waxing moon glinting off the waterfall and turning it into a curtain of light, and tries to empty his mind of thoughts and his body of impulses. The problem of his brother lurks outside the car and the temptation of Carol within. Her blood, her own unique scent, both call to him and all he has to do is-

He almost jerks out of his seat when he feels her lips on his throat as her hand slides up the inside of his thigh.

"Please," she whispers. "Just this once, Damon. I need... I need someone tonight."

He glances up at the rearview mirror, meeting her eyes for a moment, and then he pushes her gently off his shoulder, turning to face her. His thumb strokes the tears off her cheeks as he contemplates her request. He can't do this. He needs to let her down, now. He can't let this go any further.

"Are you sure?" he asks instead, pushing away that weird feeling again that he's pretty sure is guilt.

Carol nods.

"I'm sure," she said. "Please. I need this. No strings, Damon, I promise."

As he gazes at her, he realizes something. She doesn't need just anyone. She needs _Richard_ tonight. And maybe, just maybe, Damon can give that to her.

Pressing his palms to her cheeks, he looks deeply into her eyes.

"You're with Richard in his BM-" He breaks off and sighs in annoyance. "In his _Bimmer_." He starts to lean forward, ready to kiss her. "You're going to fu-make love."

Carol lets out an uncharacteristic giggle and then suddenly she's pulling him with her as she reclines her seat all the way back with a violent jolt. He rolls onto her, letting out moan of surprise as she yanks him down into a hard, sloppy, _good_ kiss as her hands already busy themselves with his fly.

As he slides into her heat, the radio whines, _Sweet dreams are made of this_, and he almost laughs out loud at the irony. But then she gasps and then so does he as her muscles tighten around him like a vise.

"Richard," Carol breathes. "I love you. Love you so much."

Tears are streaming down her face and he wonders in slight panic if the compulsion has taken, but then she smiles and he catches his breath. She is _radiant_.

"I love you, too, Carol," he murmurs, and for a moment, he means it.

Just then, she does something _awesome_ with her hips and he's tumbling over the edge with a sharp cry, barely cognizant of her spasming around him, but aware enough to bite into his tongue and not into her. He clings to her as his shaking stills, whispering sweet nothings as he nuzzles her ear.

"Sleep now," he says finally, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "When you wake up, this will all be a lovely dream."

Carol nods and curls up on the seat as Damon puts her to rights and then climbs into his seat and starts the car. As he drives into the night, he sings along with the radio, content for the time being.


End file.
